


Recovery

by wallow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, Permanent Injury, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 16:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17831912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallow/pseuds/wallow
Summary: Draco helps Hermione escape his aunt's torture; but she isn't left in the best shape afterward. Hurt, and with no where left to go she stays in Draco's care. Despite their shaky past they manage to find common ground. Caught between political alliances, they navigate their way between staying safe and not getting caught.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my older fics that I'm reposting here.

The room smelt heavily of sweat and metal. Draco watched as much as he could with a straight face, not wanting to give away even an inkling of what he was thinking. Hermione's screams bounced down the hallway, down to the cellar where her friends were kept. No one had bothered giving her the privacy of a closed door. He prayed she would only stay lucid for the first round of Cruciatus when it came to that. Bella hadn't pulled that spell out yet and stuck to more medieval torture spells that drew more blood before quickly healing it back up into raised scars. It was her style to make things as messy as she possibly could, while begrudgingly keeping them alive as long as she was instructed to. Though with her, they often ended up dead before the others could have their fun with them.

Despite having watched this scenario through many times before, he could not will himself void of emotion as he had with the others. The girl who would be put on display tonight was someone he spent years with learning beside in class. They hadn't gotten on well in school but he never pictured it ending like this, with her wavy brown hair stuck to the sweat on her face, wailing at his feet so near death. He didn't want to see the look on her face after whatever was done to her later that night when the others arrived.

His mother and father liked to act like they were above Bella's brutish tactics but he learned to take everything they said with a grain of salt. His father especially, who was no stranger to the torture parties their Lord often threw. He wondered if that was what this was going to be turned into, an extreme act of voyeurism, and if his father would also feel the same hesitance in hurting someone he knew as a child. Or if he could feel anything, really.

He had to do something. And it hadn't been long before the opportunity arouse. The other two had escaped and his aunt dashed away to recapture them. Before he could think he quietly cast an invisibility charm around her and Apparated to the first place that came clearly to mind. When he was much younger, before The Dark Lord had made his return and his parents were more parents than followers, they would take him to his grandparent's old property that was hidden out in a place he was not even sure of. His grandparents, being just as paranoid as his own, had the place so filled with guards that it was nearly impossible to find without knowing just the right spot to enter. The home had been hidden for so long he doubted his father would have brought it up to the Dark Lord for fear of seeming any less of a loyal dog. And, though his mother failed him in many ways, she would rather give her own life than sell her out her own son.

1.

She lost track of how long she had been staring blankly at the ceiling. The room was dimly lit by a single candle hung off center the wall, fire dancing erratically despite the motionless air. Pain was radiating off her side, from a large slash Bella had not been able to heal properly before the commotion. The wound had been poorly dressed and had soaked through her shirt. She wondered if they would ever return to change the dressings, or if she would sit in this state till they came back to finish her off. Her chest tightened. She blinked her eyes slowly, and then quickly, before fading out of consciousness.

When she awoke her bandages had been changed, and a tray of food left at the bedside. Her stomach ached for food but she could not bring herself to eat. She sat up slowly, propping herself with a pillow. When she first woke up she paid very little attention to detail, her brain to hazy from the pain. The room had been blank aside from the basics, a bed, and a nightstand. There were no windows. She wondered if this room had been prepared for anything in particular, while it was not welcoming it was definitely more comfortable than the dungeon she was held in earlier. She heard someone approach the other side of the room. They stood there; doing something she could not tell for a few moments before finally going to unlock the door. It clicked open, revealing a man draped in black fabrics. She recognized the face immediately, instinctively throwing her arms over her face when he stepped forward. Hermione stiffened, preparing herself from whatever was to become. He killed Dumbledore, and for all she knew he was probably sent there to finish her off. But he did nothing at first, then suddenly kneeled over and set his wand on the floor.

"How are you feeling? Is there anything else you need...?" he started, before trailing off.

She watched in disbelief, lowering her arms. She didn't know what to say at first and instead continued to stare at him, giving him the filthiest look.

"I'm sorry. What my aunt did was… I couldn't just sit back and watch anymore. You're safe now, they won't find us here."

Memories from her time in the manor flashed back in her mind. Her endless fits of screaming as sharp agonizing pain echoed throughout her whole body, and his beady eyes staring right back at her void of any expression. Whatever act he was putting on right now, she believed none of it. She wanted to fight back, to jump out of the covers and lunge at him, but she was tired. Adjusting herself was exhausting, and every part of her body ached. She was currently in no state fight anyone despite how much she wanted to. So instead she held her tongue, sealing her lips into a tight purse.

He seemed to be waiting for a response for her, and she was glad she decided against giving him the pleasure of a response. He was not her knight in armor.

Eventually, he left, and she settled herself back into bed. She didn't know where Harry and Ron were, or if they even managed to escape the manor, but she hoped wherever they were they were safe. She felt guilty for getting the rest they surely were being deprived of not knowing if she was okay. Nonetheless, she fell asleep quite quickly.

Hermione woke up the next morning with the gaping wound on her side healed. She never took Draco as the physician type but whatever he had done had worked well enough. She imagined he had spent enough time in the nurse's office in school to pick up a few tricks. Pain still shot down her size when she went to adjust, which would have been slightly less off if thought of in muggle healing methods. She recalled when a few years back Harry had the bones in his arm vanished and even then it only took a night for everything to be back in place. Whatever was going on with her was very abnormal. If she wanted to rejoin her friends in their quest she would need to figure out what was going on with her but as far as she knew, now, in the height of wartime, there were no healers she could consult. She lifted her shirt, examining her wound more closely. It was perfectly healed, only having left behind a large raised scar going down her midriff. Running her fingers across it, she felt no pain.

She clenched her hand into a fist around the sheets, contemplating her next few actions. While disheartened, she refused to give up yet. Where ever she was there had to be some kind of library she could study in. She pushed herself up, ignoring the pain laced with each movement. The soreness in her limbs felt secondary in comparison. Once she learned which movements hurt more than others she minded them as much as she could. On her feet now, she wobbled to the door, taking her time with each step. After getting used to it, the pain was ignorable but still very present.

The door was left unlocked, and she was happy to know she wasn't a prisoner any longer. The hallways to the house were left just as plain as the room she was in. Lighter squares left on the wall paint told her it had been decorated at some point before everything had been hauled out. She wished she had at least asked Draco where he had taken her while he was around, but even now she hadn't exactly wanted to play friendly with the Death Eater. He had decided to save her on a whim and could easily do the same and turn her in. The more she observed the house the more it began to look like an actual house rather than the holding cell she previously believed it to be. The floor below, beginning from the bottom of the stairway, had more decoration to it than above. Old portraits covered the walls, all of them with their signature icy white Malfoy hair. This place definitely hadn't been the manor but the decorating had been similar enough for her to come to the conclusion this was one of their old summer homes.

She turned down the right connecting hall, leading to a door into the kitchen. Unlike the others, this room had a distinct lived-in look to it, with dishes left drying in the dish rack and ripe fruit sitting on the counter. She wondered how often Draco had come back to visit this place on his own. Out the window, field of opens grass stretched for miles into winding hilltops. Subdued olive greens mixed with the bright petals of mustard, speckled like freckles over the hillside. It was beautiful, and for a moment she envied Draco. She couldn't imagine growing up surrounded with such a sight, much less in multiple different locations. Her home had been nothing but a small townhouse planted in the middle of town, one that she doubted she could return to in the foreseeable future.

Draco quietly entered the room, making Hermione jump when she finally notices his presence. "I want to know why you've brought me here," She spat, stepping back into the counter. "After standing around ogling while you're aunt—" She stopped, not wanting to finish her sentence.

"I didn't want any of that to happen nor do I enjoy it. Or any of this for that matter, so if you would stop with that accusing tone I would appreciate it." He shot back. The stress lines on his once smooth face were deep, proof of the burden on his shoulders.

"Please, don't try to act like this is just something you're father forced you into. Even if that is the case, you just stood there. How many times before have you just stood there?" Her tone was stern, but not nearly as venomous as she intended.

The Draco she knew from school would have been absolutely furious, firing back just as quick as she had with something just as hurtful, but he said nothing. The thought that he had been genuinely trying to be kind crossed her mind, and she felt guilty momentarily before she came back to her senses.

"I know. I've been a coward but, it's not as if I had any other options. Our situations are similar but we ended up on opposite sides of it. I'm sure you weren't utterly ecstatic about being tortured for information in place of one of your best mates. What I'm trying to say is, I'm trying to make things better now in whatever way I can, but I can't change the past."

She considered his words, wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt. She found it difficult to place any kind of trust in the boy that had been tormenting her since she was twelve but, in her condition, there wasn't anything else she could do. "Is there a library here?"

"Yes," he said, seeming relieved at the sudden topic change. "It's down the hall on the other side of the staircase. Last door. What do you need it for?"

She rolled her eyes, annoyed he would think to propose such a question. "My side still hurt."

"Really?" He said perplexed, reaching to look at it.

Hermione jumped back, covering herself with her forearm. "The wound is gone but, that pain is still there. It feels sharp. It doesn't make any sense. I wanted to see if there was something I could do to fix it."

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. "No, er, I don't think there is anything you can do about it."

Her stomach turned. "Excuse me?"

"It's a result of dark magic. I'm sure you've heard of it before. It may go away with time, or it may not."

"I—I have." She gulped. She had a hunch but hadn't let the thought enter her head for fear of the thought making it real.

"I'm sorry. " He said looking away, his expression a mix of pity and guilt.

It would have been easier to blame it on him, but realistically she knew not much else could have been done. Bella had been crazy enough to kill both of them if he had attempted anything before he did. She pulled out a chair and sat down, pain rippling through her as she bent herself into that position. She wanted to be grateful, but the feeling was well beyond her now. She wondered how would she return to the others now? Hermione tried to imagine herself running away from Snatchers, her side stabbed with the motion of each step. There was no way she could go back if she couldn't at the very least carry her own weight. She would only be a hindrance.

"T-the library…" she started again after a long pause. She stood up and quickly made her way out of the room.

She left her herself cry for a good part of an hour before she pulled herself together. She rubbed her swollen eyes and rested her head back onto a bookshelf. The library was small, taking up only a corner of the den with two bookshelves built into the wall and a fireplace sectioning it off from the rest of the room, which was mainly boxes and random furniture. She quickly took a liking to this room, finding it so much more welcoming than the windowless room she was stuffed in before. She took the back cushion and a throw blanket from a couch in the other side of the room and resettled herself into the corner of the bookshelf. After crying for so long she hadn't the energy to look for a cure in the textbooks and sat there until she eventually fell asleep.


	2. Chapter Two

_2._

Hermione stared out the window pane looking at the grass softly sway in the distance. Draco had left hours ago, off to do something she hadn't been sure of. She hadn't bothered to ask when she noticed him getting ready earlier that morning, or said much of anything since the night before. They had breakfast together, a quiet one but not as tense as she would have expected. It has been unplanned, and had more do with them still being on time schedules as if they were in school more than anything. The food had been simple, some bread with butter and tea, but she hadn't complained. He could have done nothing, and she needed to get something in her system lest she deal with painful stomach pains for the rest of the day.

Sighing, she set down the book she had been reading aside her. A mountain of books had begun to form around her. Usually she had enjoyed countless hours of undisturbed reading but today she had trouble focusing on anything but her current predicament. Out of all the books she read over, most of the information she gathered had been things she already heard of before. There had been one book on common household remedies which she had bookmarked and a potion on menstrual pain suppressants she supposed she could fashion into an all purpose one. She considered searching around the house for ingredients for the potion but had been putting it off because she wasn't sure how long her body would hold up. She tried to remind herself at least the soreness was only a temporary thing to keep herself from wallowing in self pity.

Pushing the fear aside she forced herself up, using the window sill as leverage. Pain shot down her side, but was more or less bearable once she got past her mental blocks. For now, her only goal was to put together enough numbing medication to give her back her mobility for the time being. Her first thought was to check the rooms nearest to her, hoping she wouldn't have to limp all around the house before she found where they kept their supplies. Just as the ones upstairs had been, the rooms were mostly barren, only one on the other side of the hallway seemed to be promising. It was filled with cloth covered furniture and a few rows of boxes stacked on top of each other. Sorting through them looked daunting, but she pushed through. The boxes at the very top of the stacks were the easier ones to check. Once she got through those she pulled them down by the corners, letting them roughly fall to the floor. She heard a few cracks here and there but she was sure whatever broke the Malfoys had enough means to replace them.

After having gone through all the boxes and finding nothing she continued the same process with the next room, until she finally found a box full of materials in the den. All the ingredients listed on the potion were there in small quantities but a burner. She carefully unpacked everything out onto the concrete floor and started chopping up ingredients on top of an old potions book that was stuff inside the box as well. Rather than struggle with carrying everything upstairs, she decided it would easiest to prep everything there then take it upstairs to prepare on the stove top. After collecting enough for a few trial and error test runs of the potion she stuffed it all into a mason jar and hurried back up to the kitchen.

Upon entering the room she was greeted by a familiar face. "Granger, have you been going through every room in the house?"

Her face blushed red. She hadn't stopping to think anything about it. "I was looking for supplies."

"I see that you found them," he said motioning to the jar she carried in her underarm. "But did you have to smash every family heirloom vase in the process?" His tone was laced with humor, turning her embarrassment into anger.

"Well, it wasn't exactly easy for me….." She said before trailing off in another passing thought. Before, when she has asked him why he bothered to help her he hardly gave her an answer. She could not, for the life of her, understand how someone who grimaced at the thought of being in presence of a mudblood would decide to put himself in jeopardy on a whim because of one.

"Why are you giving me that look?" He asked, scowling.

"You saved me, but I don't really understand why. I thought you hated me. You did hate me. Whatever will your father think when he finds out."

"I don't really care much for what my father thinks anymore, Granger." The casual tone he had before was gone, replaced with his usual snarky one. "I really wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Why? Because I'm a mudblood?"

"No. Because my father is a fucking psychopath."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We're all well aware of that."

"No," he corrected. "He's—he's like my aunt, I think. Not as crazy but I think he enjoys watching that kind of stuff." Hermione's stomach dropped, not yet ready to hear her abuser's name be casually thrown around.

She hadn't been expecting that kind of confession to come out of him considering the two hardly knew each other. Hermione had come across Lucius enough time to come to the conclusion he hadn't been the best company. He was a very stoic man who never said much unless it was to make a condescending remark at someone. It shouldn't have come as much as a surprise that he wasn't quite right in the head. Hermione remembered Bella's face, her expression permanently etched into her mind. Her eyes were glossed over, her mind seemingly lost in the heat of the moment, and was growing wilder with each crack. She replaced Bella's image with Lucius'. A sudden wave of nausea passed through her, and she needed to take a seat.

"He was going to do that to you, and I was suppose to be there to watch it. I couldn't let that happen to you. That was it. That's why I helped you. If you expect me to say I want to join Dumbledore's Army now that's not going to happen." His words were sharp, but they hadn't stung.

"Thank you." She said, finally.

She hadn't realized what they were planning to do with her after Bella was done, naively assuming Bella was it. Everyone had known about the type of parties Deatheaters threw, but she always spared herself of finding out the details when it came up in conversation. Though after experiencing firsthand what they did to people they got their hands on, it painted a much better picture in her mind.

"You're welcome. And if you would stop throwing accusations at me that would help too. I'm already in enough shit as is for that stunt."

Hermione's head shot up.

"I said one of your friends struck me from behind after Bella left and grabbed you. They have no reason to not believe me, yet."

"So Harry and Ron are alright then?"

"Yes." He answered, annoyed. "They got out fine. You aren't planning on rejoining them, are you?"

She pursued her lips. Funny coming from someone who just had an issue with accusations."No. Well, not yet. Once I can get enough of this potion together maybe."

"That's a stupid idea. They'll find you in a minute and drag you back to finish up." She shouldn't tell if he was speaking out of anger with the situation, or as a plea to keep her alive.

Hermione swallowed, wanting to explain herself. Of course she hadn't been one hundred percent sure on the idea herself, but did he have to be so abrasive? Then she remembered the bratty little boy she went to school with, and instead rolled her eyes. "It may be easy for you to sit back and let things happen to you but it's not for me."

Draco huffed, and started out the door. "Believe what you want Granger but I'm telling you if you leave here you're as good as dead."

Hermione stood up and went to the stove to continue where she left off. She had wasted enough time trying to speak with him. What mattered now was getting back in good condition and figuring out how to get back with her friends. She pulled out a sauce pan from the cupboard and set it on the stove. One detail she failed to recognize till now was Draco was currently her only connection to the outside world, and if she wanted to follow through with her plan she would unfortunately need to stick around a while longer to find out what she needed. She sighed, plopping the ingredients into the pan one by one. Draco was right, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Right now she had no business wandering out into a battlefield.


	3. Chapter Three

3.

"What's this?" Draco asked, flipping over a piece of paper. He has just walked into the kitchen, preparing to take off when it was shoved it into his chest.

"It's a list of things I need for my numbing potion. I need it by the time you get back. I didn't have enough ingredients for more than one full serving."

Draco rolled his eyes, but agreed to her demands. As long as she had a reason to stay put he would happily go along with it.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."

What looked to be the most genuine smile he'd seen since he meet her graced her face for a moment and she took off. Immediately he noticed the difference in her mobility. Instead of taking short jerk movements she was moving along with ease. He had to hand it to her - whatever makeshift potion she managed to throw together with what was left over in the basement worked, and he expected no less out of her. Having her taken away from the golden trio would surely be the biggest blow to their forces. At least without Ron around he could still see Harry and Hermione getting somewhere. Surely all Ron and Harry would do now is bicker.

He folded the paper up and put it into his back pocket. It was another added stop for the day but he supposed he could make it fit in. He apparated into his manor, not surprised to see it was still filled with a number of people he's only seen once or twice before roaming around. It was hardly his house anymore with all the people running in and out of it at any given time. He didn't understand how his parents could handle the lack of privacy, not that they had been given a choice in the matter, but they hadn't seemed the least bit bothered by it. To the contrary, he would say his father was enjoying all the attention. In the corner of the room he spotted his mother rearranging the décor, removing the more expensive china and replacing it with other, more easily replaced, items. She shot him a warm smile before quickly returning back to task. Draco wasn't in the mood to return it.

Draco made his way upstairs, avoiding eye contact with anyone else he came across. Despite having always left his door locked when he left he wouldn't have been surprised if someone had managed to get in and rummaged through his belongings. To his relief, everything looked to be in place. He went into his drawer and pulled out his money satchel and a bottomless bag to take with him. At this time there weren't many markets open that weren't covered in lowlifes. His family had their own stash of potion making ingredients boxed away in the den, but for all he knew his father was still down there. Recently his father has been spending all his time down there, doing who knew what with his Death Eater friends. Ever since word of the Dark Lord's return got out more and more began flocking to their side, most being people they would not have talked to before let alone invite into their home.

Accepting the risk of running into his father, he left his room, locking it behind him, and headed down. The den had been refurbished years ago just for their meetings to be held in. His father had a vision for it and had everything torn down in multiple times till he was happy with its appearance. There was nothing on the walls, only rows of seating lined up against the perimeter like it was set for a show. Just being down there made Draco uncomfortable.

A voice echoed off the walls as he entered. "Boy, what are you doing down here? Didn't your mother tell you, all children upstairs?" The man whose face looked half covered in dirt was certainly one he had never seen before.

Draco froze. As he thought, his father and his friend were already there.

Soon after the first one, his father's voice chimed in. "It's quite alright, but you're right. I thought you knew not to be down here, Draco."

"Sorry, I didn't want to get behind on potions. Thought I would study up." His eyes darted around the room, going back and forth between his father and the closet to the side. The room had always had an off feeling to it, which was only now amplified with the type of people who now filled it. He didn't want to stay there long and accidentally witness something he wished he hadn't.

"Good." Lucius smiled, wrapping his arm over Draco's shoulders. "That's my son. Severus will be over later tonight if you would like more help. There's going to be a show tonight and you know how he detests those. He doesn't have the stomach for it."

"I'll be alright." Draco slipped out of his father's grasp, hurrying over to the closet. Draco quickly rummaged through the box and pulled out what he remembered needing. He figured if he had forgotten anything it would have been safer to ask Professor Snape for it, who knew how to keep his mouth shut rather than dance around his father and his nosy house guests. The less time he had to spend around them the better. Not bothering to exchange anymore pleasantries, he hurried out of the room.

* * *

"I could only get these. I'll go back for more tomorrow." Draco dumped a bag on the kitchen table, pulling Hermione's eyes away from her book.

She looked down at the bag, and emptied out its contents. One ingredient was missing, but she supposed she could make it work with what she had. If she was recalling correctly, there was still a bit of it left over in the basement that she could use for now, but without anymore she would lose go back to limping around after the next day and a half. "It's alright. Thank you." She kept replies short, not wanting to say something to trigger an argument like what happened the other day. The potion she had taken earlier that morning had begun to wear off, and she could feel the pain in her side begin to etch its way back into her mind. She stood up, taking the bag with her to the stove, determined to make full use of her mobility while she could.

The room remained silent, aside from the noise of boiling water on the stove. Hermione plopped the ingredients in, ignoring the feeling of eyes on her back. Draco had been oddly aloof since his return. She knew something happened, but didn't know if it was her place to ask. The little bit of information he shared on his dad before had piqued her interest, and she was curious if his mood had something to do with that.

"Did you need any help with that? You look stiff."

Hermione stopped stirring, unsure if he was proposing a genuine concern or throwing an insult. She decided to test his resolve. "Can you grab me the mushrooms in the cupboard?"

Saying nothing, he got up and stood behind her. Aware of his proximity to her she thought of stepping away, until she reminded herself that the cupboard was above her head.

"Here." Draco set it down next to her and lingered in place.

For a moment their shoulders touched, and she really hadn't known what to make of it. The air around them suddenly felt tense and her mind went blank. It took an extra amount of effort to remind herself to keep stirring and not let the mixture burn.

"Thank you," she said, whispering. Her voice seemed to knock him out of his head. He nodded in response before leaving the room.

_That was odd_ , she thought, failing to understand why her cheeks felt as hot as they did.

She chalked it up to the steam and left it at that.


	4. Chapter Four

Her limping had come back, and Draco couldn't help but stare. With each movement it appeared as if one hip was grinding against the other. Watching her struggle to move around made him feel guilty. He couldn't help but blame himself for it, and without the other ingredient he neglected to pick up she would no doubt be in pain like this again.

Draco instinctively went to rest his hand on her side to support her. When he realize what he was doing he quickly recoiled. She hadn't seemed to notice anything, her eyes remaining stagnate to the pot. He cursed himself wondering what he was thinking. Though truthfully, he hadn't been thinking anything. The sudden stride behind her and his arm's sudden movement had all been unplanned. While his body moved forward, towards her, wanting to surround her, he had noticed and done nothing to stop it. He knew he shouldn't have. With the situation they were in he was surprised she hadn't violently swatted him away like she would have if Ron had attempted the same thing. Part of him wanted to believe maybe her silence was an invitation, but he brushed away the thought, deciding to focus on more important things. Things that were not imagining his form hovering around hers.

He needed to go back and get that last thing on the list, but he couldn't be sure how many parties his father would be throwing and he was uncompromising with his decision to not walk in on it. He bit his cheek, he could ask Professor Snape, who would have them delivered as soon as possible. Somehow he already felt the Professor would say nothing to anyone, not where the Malfoys were concerned.

To no surprise he found her already sitting in the study, leaning against the wooden bookshelf, book in hand. He avoided staring, carrying on to the opposite side of the room. Her eyes stayed fixed on his back, studying his every movement. She wasn't sure of his motives yet, that much was obvious. Instead of confronting her he decided on making each movement as drawn out and obvious as possible, as if to tell her she has nothing to worry about without a single word slipping out. He didn't know how to interact with her anyway, most likely anything he said she would have taken badly. He pulled out a sheet of paper and began on a letter to the professor requesting the supplies dropped off back at the manor. He almost thought to write a line about his newfound interest in brewing, but knew he wouldn't be fooling anyone.

"What are you writing?" Hermione asked, her shrill accusing voice piercing the silence.

"Getting those things you requested." He scoffed right back.

"Oh." She replied before pursing her lips. She straightened her back, trying to get a look at it.

Draco rolled his eyes, but let her look anyway.

"If you want to look over my work you're welcome to. I'll leave it here for you to grade."

She rolled her eyes in turn, saying nothing back. Her bones cracked as she rose, slowly shuffling over to the desk. If she was in pain she did not show it, her normal Gryffindor pride returning back to her. Her eyes darted across the paper, inspecting every last mark of ink. Uncertainty appeared on her face for a moment and he knew exactly what for. He had wondered the same thing, if it had been safe to ask such a favor from their old Professor.

"Are you sure…." She started.

"We are safe here. He won't tell a soul." Draco reassured, his eyes firmly holding onto hers.

She maintained the eye contact for a moment before darting them away to the other corner of the room. She hadn't said anything back but he felt she trusted his decision. Or rather, had no choice but to.

Draco continued to stand at the desk waiting eagerly for a reply, while Hermione returned to her side of the room to finish off the rest of her book. He knew expecting a reply at this hour was ridiculous, but he couldn't keep the thought out of his mind.

He thought he heard her stomach growl, but after realizing how hungry he had been he couldn't tell if the noise hadn't been his own. He didn't know about her, but he had gotten sick of plain bread. There was plenty of food at his house, that he now scolded himself for not picking up when he could have. His brown haired guest had been better in the sense that she hadn't been trying to bite off his head every time they shared the same room, but she still looked like the life had been sucked out of her. If she was going to survive here she would at the very least need proper nutrients. He bit his cheek again, harder this time. Whether he liked it or not he had to go back. His mother would most likely be hanging near the kitchen, but she was easier to brush off at least. As long as he didn't have to deal with his father he supposed it would be alright. This time he would make make sure to get everything he needed.

The next morning came much too quickly. Draco slept well that night, better than he ever could at home knowing his father was still roaming around under their wooden panels. He considered that verses the old spring bed he now slept on a fair trade. It was still dark out when he began heading over to his old home. He hoped leaving now would give him enough time to get his things together and be back in time for breakfast.

The manor had looked different than the last time he had been there, if only slightly. Some decorations were replaced with other more out of place looking ones. The sound of porcelain clicking against a hard surfaced echoed down the hall, and he knew where his mother was. Still fiddling with whatever kept her idle hands busy on the other side of the main room. Draco worried for his mother, but said nothing, knowing it wasn't his place to fix whatever situation his parents had put themselves in. She knew as well as he had that she was equally responsible for what Lucius was doing down in the basement.

He tried to stay as quiet as possible, trying to avoid his mother's attention. He pulled out his endless satchel and began to stuff whatever would fit, which was everything. The fruit on the counter were mainly used as decoration and would most likely be left to go bad, so away into the satchel they went. Once he cleared of the kitchen he went upstairs to stuff the rest of his closet inside the bag as well. He pulled out a box from inside the back closet where he kept the clothes he had long grown out of. He wasn't sure if they were small enough to fit Hermione's small frame but he took them anyway. Looking back at his near empty bedroom he decided he was done. There wasn't much else left for him to take.

Draco crept down the stairs, and luckily no one was there for him to avoid. If they were not up here roaming about then it was only wise to assume they were all downstairs, which he didn't know if he should have been grateful for or not. It gave him cover to not explain what he was doing but he could only imagine the horrors going on down below.

"Draco."

He snapped his neck back, turning to address the familiar voice.

His mother stood before him, rearranging a vase full of flowers at the entrance way. Her eyes went from his, then to the bag grasped firmly in his hands.

"You've been gone so much lately Draco." Her voice clicked at him like the porcelain.

Draco said nothing, more concerned with finding a quick way out of the conversation than anything.

"I know with everything going on you want to escape, but please remember we both love you very much."

He didn't believe a word of it.

Draco gave her a nod before quickly scattering to exit the front door. The less time he spend around either one of his parents the better.

Closing the door behind him, his foot hit something hollow. It was a plain brown box with a simple note card signed 'S'. Draco smiled, the first genuine one in a while.

When he returned from manor he felt as if a giant weight had been lifted off his shoulder. He wouldn't have to return back to that hell hole for at least another few weeks, and deal with his parent's eccentricity. He would have done it sooner if he realized it was this easy to pick up and leave. He dumped out his bag onto the dining table, finding some of the fruit bruised from the stuff he carelessly threw on top of them.

"Are you just going to leave all that stuff there?" Hermione shot, limping into the room.

Draco looked back the pile for a second before remembering the box. "Professor Snape came through." He pulled the box up onto the counter and began to unload its contents. Draco felt his trust well placed, pleased with the gift. There was more than enough. Hermione stood beside him, studying the package. She looked less pleased than he expected her to be.

She pulled the note off the package and flipped it over. "Is anyone hurt?"

Draco took the note, reading it for himself.

"Do you think he knows?" She asked crossing her arms.

"I don't know."


	5. Chapter 5

5.

A time passed with no other word from the Professor, which left Draco clearly on edge. After a full day of pacing around he finally settled down and joined her. He spent the next few days with her in the study room reading what looked like a fiction novel, being uncharacteristically quiet, aside from the sound of his nails thudding against the hardcover. Of course unlike her he could not read anything for more than an hour and a half at a time and took a walk around the exterior of the house when he needed to. She thought of joining him many times, but always decided against it in the end. She did not want to push any boundaries. They were not friends.

Hermione had come to almost appreciate his presence, preferring it over absolute solitude, for she was introverted, but not anti-social. Her view of him had not changed much. Draco was still the most spoiled prick she's ever come across, but over the course of a few days she'd come to be more tolerant of him. After all, he made all of this possible and whether she liked it or not he was the reason she was still alive. There was no doubt in her mind she wouldn't have lasted more than a few hours had he not done what he had.

She looked over at him from her corner of the room, studying him. His attention was wavering and she could tell it was due time for another impromptu trip around the house. As she had guessed, he paused his reading and folded the book back up. He stared at it for a second, perplexed, then shifted his gaze to her.

"Do you ever need a break? It's been days and you've done nothing but stare at that dated textbook." He started, as irritable as ever.

"I'm comparing the information in it to the current edition." She bit back, with a tone that implied it should have been obvious. What other reason would she have two different editions of the same book opened around her?

Draco rolled his eyes. "Not everyone finds comparing pointless information entertaining."

"Anyway," he continued, "don't you need to, like, stretch your legs or something? Sitting around can't be doing anything for your health."

An invitation? She considered it. She had not the guts to offer one herself, but she supposed taking one wouldn't hurt. She noted the page she was on before closing the textbook and placing aside. "Fine," she finally said back, standing up. Her joints cracked as she moved, and she couldn't deny it certainly felt good having her legs stretched out after having them curled up for a few hours.

He looked surprised at her willingness but went with it, outstretching an arm towards her. "Mi'lady."

Hermione groaned, walking straight passed him.

Draco followed after her, a wide grin plastered across his face.

A warm breeze blew past her, nearly blowing her too-large tee shirt up her abdomen. The clothes Draco had brought hadn't been her size but she was happy at least she wouldn't have to wear the same torn up clothes anymore. He hadn't bothered mentioning anything of it to her, leaving the clothes to sit on the table, but she helped herself anyway. She held the shirt down, not looking back to see if Draco had seen anything. Either way she doubted it would make a difference. Hermione couldn't imagine someone like Draco seeing anything in her other than annoying, nosey, know-it-all. Still, she couldn't understand why it bothered her so much.

Draco cleared his throat and walked ahead of her, leading them into a path out in the field. Pushing her anxieties away, she followed behind him, wondering if joining him on this trip was really such a good idea after all.

Long blades of grass tickled her bare thighs as she continued down the path. The midday sun pounded down on them, and she was sure she was going to get a burn. Eventually they came to a spot near an old large tree and stopped to sit under the shade. Draco sat on the other side of the tree, making sure not to be too near her. Being treated with respect from such an arrogant prat was a strange feeling indeed, one that Hermione still had trouble accepting. Not even her own friends bothered to show her the same kind of respect. Whenever she needed their kindness the most they had the tendency to disappear.

She frowned. It was a sad thought, and certainly not one she should be thinking of while Harry and Ron were still out who knows where trying to find and destroy the illusive horcruxes. If anything they should be upset with her for getting to relax while they were out fighting for the sake of the world. Ron certainly would be. For all they knew she was already dead in a ditch.

If only they knew better.

The thought stung. She shrunk up into herself, bringing her knees into her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"Are you thinking about him?" Draco asked, leaning towards her. His accusatory tone threw her off.

Hermione shot up, straightening her back. "Who?"

His eyes wandered away. "Oh, well what are you thinking about?"

"It's not fair I get to just sit around while…" She didn't continue her sentence, not wanting to give him too much information on them.

"Consider yourself lucky, Granger." He leaned back into the tree. "Besides, I'm sure those two idiots would be happy that you're still alive."

There was no hint of sass in his voice; could he be genuinely trying to comfort her? Hermione wasn't sure. The last time this conversation came up they both exploded. The last thing she wanted was a repeat of that. They had made so much progress with each other so far it would be a waste to bring things back to square one all over again. Right now, he was all she had. She didn't know if she could stand the solitude that came with that.

"I guess." Was all she managed for force out.

"They would think you were brave for surviving what you did. I certainly do."

Hermione felt herself blush. She didn't know what to say, and buried her face into her arms. Their relationship, whatever it was, was certainly becoming odd.

"Are you still worried?" He asked, definitely not one to pick up on moods.

"No," she replied. "But thank you… that helped." The words came out awkwardly, but he seemed to understand her intent. She never imagined having such a conversation with him. She wondered if they would have gotten along this well back in school if she hadn't been born a mudblood, but she dared not ask. At least, not yet.

They were graced with another long silence, before Draco decided to take control of the conversation. "You know, back when I was a kid this was my favorite place to be. It belonged to my grandparents on my father's side, who were just a cruel as him, but spoiled the shit out of me. Whenever we came here my parents would focus less on their work and more on us. I wish things could have stayed that way. Maybe things would have turned out differently. I'm not sure."

Hermione doubted they would have, considering his father's bloodlust, there was bound to always been some discourse, but for a moment she tried to imagine what she thought he was and it was warm. Draco could have been very different, still bratty and arrogant, because she couldn't imagine him any other way, but without his extremist beliefs and without his life always put on the line. Maybe they could have been friends, or even something more. She quickly shut away the thought and turned to him.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" Despite her better judgment she asked anyway, hoping things wouldn't turn sour this time.

"I don't know. I say others get hurt but it didn't affect me the same way. I…"

She stared into his grey eyes, holding his gaze.

"I was always very particular with bullying you as children because that's what kids do when…" He stopped, looking back at Hermione who stared wide eyed.

He leaned forward and their lips touched. Hermione didn't breathe. She didn't move an inch.


	6. Chapter Six

6.

The world was spinning around her and Hermione found herself pushed up against the tree, with her neck crammed into an awkward angle.

Draco, _the infamous mudblood hating_ _Draco Malfoy_ , was atop of her smashing his lips against hers as she laid dazed below, trying to get her scrambled thoughts together enough to piece together what was happening. She could have sworn a second ago Draco had blurted out what sounded like a confession to her, but there was no way that could have been correct. Before all of this he had only treated her with very clear disdain, making it difficult to believe he could have been harboring feelings for her all along. Her mind flashed back to the memory of him inching himself closer to her while she stood at the stove. Even that seemed out of place, but she could not just brush this off like she had with that. If it was true and not just a momentary lapse of judgment due to their close proximity in the last few weeks, Draco was anything but the romantic type.

Still, she let him continue, unsure of her reasons why.

Whenever she got into scenarios like this she never knew what to do. Her time with Krum stood as a testament to this. He had been just as forceful, though, she somehow found herself enjoying her time under Draco far more than she ever had with Krum.

While Krum's grasp was clumsy and his stubble felt like sandpaper against her skin, every one of Draco's movements made her heart flutter. His kisses were harsh in some areas, then soft and feather-life in others. It was enough to make her let him carry through. She knew she couldn't let that happen, but she was beginning to forget why.

Hermione lightly pushed at his shoulders, trying to get in a few words before the situation got the best of her. She worried if she would have the self-restraint to stop later on if she didn't do something now.

He pulled away for a moment before continuing to kiss down her neck. The sensation shot down her spine, covering her in goose bumps from the neck down.

"Draco, w-wait." She choked, withholding a moan that would have come out had she not forced out words in its place.

He stopped again, this time propping himself up above her with his arms on each side of her neck. "Do you want to stop?"

She ignored his question purposefully. She did not want to lie. "What did you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said." He muttered, his lips pressed against her ear. His voice was raspy, and so very low.

"You have to understand I'm having some trouble keeping up. For the last few years I could have sworn you hated me."

"You made me nervous and I hated you for that."

Hermione got her answer, and when he lowered himself back down she did not protest.

She couldn't deny his touch felt good. The regret already began to fill her stomach, but she allowed herself to compartmentalize the worry just this once. She could hate herself all she wanted later, but to deny herself of pleasure now was impossible.

Everyone would hate her for this.

A moan escaped her.

Draco had stopped before things had gotten too far, and Hermione was grateful for that, for she would not have been able to. She followed him back down the trail with his hand wrapped firmly around her own. She scolded herself for allowing herself to do what she just did. Her resolve was breaking, and something else entirely was filling its place. What confused her most was how much she found herself clinging to his grasp, and how willing she was to yield herself to it. If Harry and Ron ever found out, or, more accurately, when they found out, they would not take the news well.

None of her questions had any easy answers.

That night she awoke from a nightmare, drenched in sweat. She dreamt she stood in the middle of a charred field with her friends fallen around her. The bodies were thrown in piles on top of each other, preparing to be disposed of into mass graves. From the piles she could only pick out a few faces she recognize; first Harry, then Neville, and Luna. The rest had been too blurry to distinguish.

Hermione went to pull them out of the pile when Deatheaters appeared out of nowhere, surrounding all around her. When she tried to run she only made it a few steps before jolts of pain flashed through her side. Soon she would just be another body in the pile, adding nothing more to the fight then another digit in a future textbook. Realizing there was no escape she closed her eyes, ready to accept her fate, and then woke up.

His name was the first thing that came to mind.

_Draco._

She wanted to call out for him, for him to whisper comforting phrases into her ear, and if not that to at least wrap his arms around her. She wondered if he would, if given the opportunity.

Hermione shifted on her makeshift bed, trying to move into sitting position when the same pain she felt in her dream overcame her. It was time for another dose. The vials she pre-prepared had been stashed away in the kitchen. She went to bed yesterday without moving them to her bedroom, forgetting all about it.

She took a deep breath, and pushed herself out of bed legs first. The sudden movement made her feel more awake, and more easily able to push away the fear she felt until she forgot the dream completely.

Despite having no memory of it, the lingering feeling of something being amiss stayed, and the shame of his name being the first thought in her head. He protected her once, that was all. She refused to allow him to be her scapegoat for every time something went wrong. For so long, whether it be mending her broken heart, or dealing with the erratic tides of her own emotions, all she had was herself to pull herself out of it. The last thing she needed was to be emotionally reliant on another little boy who she wasn't sure could handle her storm without trying to fight it with their own. Like a certain redhead she knew.

There were other footsteps besides her own hurrying down the narrow hallway. Draco, who had not noticed her yet, was preparing to take off. Likely, to his parent's house again. She shuttered at the thought, remembering her time there. As she crossed through the door frame his head shoot up. His furrowed eyebrows quickly settled into a softer expression as his eyes met hers.

"Hermione."

He called her by her name, with a tone reserved only for loved ones.

She gulped.

"For how long?" She blurted out the words before she thought them over.

He hesitated for a moment before answering.

"When I saw you with Krum at the ball and had nothing to say about it. Maybe even before then, but that's what I first became aware of it." He looked like he wanted to say something more but left it at that.

She hadn't the nerve to pry any further, and instead changed the subject. "Are you going back?"

His eyes darkened.

"We need more food."

He was right. Their food stash had been dwindling. She didn't want him to have to go anywhere near that place again, but again there was no choice. The stress lines on his forehead had been deep and she understood why. From the note they got from it was impossible to tell how much Snape knew. Or, more threateningly, how much his father had. There was no time to worry about silly relationship drama at a time like this, she thought, scolding herself for thinking too much into little things that probably meant nothing.

"What if they already know?" She bit her cheek.

"Then be prepared to leave."

"I'll have two backpacks together for us to take." It was the most help she could offer.

He smiled. "Thank you. Stay in the study and I'll meet you there where I get back."

She nodded, and he was gone.

Hermione went to the cupboard and grabbed the vial. She took a larger dosage of it than usual, hoping to be prepared for whatever came their way.

The potion felt strange as it went down, doing nothing to help the feeling of unease beginning to swell within her. As it began to kick in she grabbed the rest of the potion and hurried to one of the storage rooms, looking for anything she could stuff their things into. She no longer questioned his loyalty, and hoped it wouldn't come back to bite her. He could turn her in just as easily as he saved her. Maybe she was naive for trusting him. She supposed she wouldn't find out until he came back.

She found two enchanted duffle bags in the back of a closet. Happy enough, she ran up to kitchen and threw everything inside. They hadn't had very much to begin with so it didn't take long for her to finish.

She wanted to believe him. It was as simple as that. She wanted to trust him and not end up hurt in the end as she often did. Catching herself staring off out the window, she pulled on the blinds and pulled them shut.

Now, all she had to do was wait.


	7. Chapter Seven

7.

Draco stood at the edge of the ballroom, careful to keep his drink steady aside his drunken and swaying female companion. The Slytherin common room had somewhat of a pre-ball party beforehand, leaving him and most of his friends intoxicated just before the ball began. He somehow managed to pass off as slightly more sober than he actually was, saving him the trouble of a lecture from one of their professors for drunkenly stumbling down the walkway. Pansy, had not done as well. He lost track of how many times she nearly tripped on the long tails of her gown. She never stopped at a reasonable amount of drinks, no matter the occasion. Draco hated having to babysit her while she was like this, and would have ditched her had he not been concerned for her well being.

Luckily, everyone's attention seemed to be drawn away to the main entrance. As directed by the staff, the students crowding around the door moved to either side of it, forming two neat lines to give enough room for the participants in the Triwizard Tournament to make their grand entrance. Pansy, who saved no breath expressing her excitement to see Viktor Krum, stumbled forward, taking Draco with her. She forced their bodies into the already congested area until they were just two heads away from the front of the line.

Draco didn't want to admit that he also had been excited. If it hadn't been for the presence of his least favorite Gryffindor in the tournament he would have been overjoyed. Though, he loved the idea of the arrogant little brat getting his head smacked straight off his shoulders in whatever the tournament had in store for him. He tried to stay hopeful that would happen, if he didn't manage to weasel his way out of a death sentence this time.

He recognized a familiar voice to the side of him, belonging to one of Weasel's siblings. He couldn't for the life of him recall her name, but dared not turn around and acknowledge her presence. Not with a drunk Pansy on his arm who was just as unreasonable as she was unpredictable. He looked straight forward, trying to tune out everything else going on around him.

"Ron is so upset right now, but just wait till he sees who Hermione is coming with. He's going to completely lose it."

"He doesn't know yet?" Another recognizable voice asked.

"No, not at all. She hasn't told anyone yet, but I saw them snogging in the library a while ago."

He hadn't been trying to eavesdrop on her conversation but couldn't help but have his interest peaked. Weasel had gotten into another fight with Granger? It wasn't at all something unexpected, but the idea that he could have been crushing on Miss Granger made him want to laugh. While she was just as obnoxious as Weasel, only an idiot would think he was anywhere near her league. Draco took note of this, eager to get a look at the red head's face later that night.

Interesting.

Draco cleared his throat, hiding a smirk behind his fist. He looked back at Weasel spawn who's ears had been as red as her hair. Her and her long-faced date made their way out of the crowd and found a new spot on the other end to nest themselves in.

The loud chattering around them started to dull down, and he knew to turn towards the door. It had swung open. As soon as the doors hit the walls the first pair walked out. His eyes widened, as did everyone else's around him. Granger had looked different. Her hair was put together in a low updo, framing a small face that was usually hidden by her frizzy locks. Little was done with her makeup, but her dress seemed to accent around all the right places. His eyes followed her down the carpet until he accidentally caught the gaze of the small redhead on the other side of the crowd. Pansy hadn't seemed to notice anything thankful, too caught up in eyeballing Krum.

Krum. That's right, he forgot all about him. His arm had been wrapped around Granger's waist the whole stroll in, Draco was surprised he hadn't noticed him sooner. Draco allowed his eyes to wonder back to her, watching the two interact with each other. She seemed to be having a good time with him. The same smile she had plastered to her face on the walk in stayed, her joy unfaltering. He felt a pang of something. Sympathy maybe? He never once saw her this happy around the two idiots she liked to follow around. He could only imagine how Ron must be feeling, together Granger and Krum had looked like the perfect pairing. The pang throbbed again.

"She looks different doesn't she?" Pansy pulled at the fabric gathering on his shoulders, pulling his attention back to her. His face was only inches away from her chest.

Draco nodded. Pansy didn't seem like she was getting sober anytime soon.

" 'Must have done something about those nasty buck teeth." She bent over, cackling into her palm.

Draco smiled back, but didn't find the humor in it.

"Krum could do better, but this gives us the opportunity to see the look on Potter and Weasely's faces. Let's go see if we can get a peek." She pulled him down the dance floor, bumping aside all the students in her way. One muttered what sounded like a slur at them, but she paid him no mind. Draco was glad they were both on the same page, but he didn't realize Weasel's feelings for Granger had been so obvious to everyone else around them. He felt like he had been the only one to not realize till just now. With the way they act toward each other it seemed like the furthest thing from the truth.

They stopped a few feet away from where the golden trio stood, hiding behind a girthy beam near the end of the refreshments table. He knew the location had been too convenient. Pansy poured herself a glass of a hard beverage, winking back at Draco as she took a sip. Draco rolled his eyes, putting his palm over the rim of her glass before she could take another gulp. "I think you've had enough. McGonagall isn't going to look the other way if she catches us getting shitfaced here."

"Afraid she's going to tell your Daddy?"

Pansy leaned against the beam and pulled Draco against her. She stood on her tiptoes, pressing her lips against his ear. "What are they talking about?"

He shrugged her off and stuck his neck out to the side to get a better look. Pansy was pushing her limits with him, as she always tended to do and the alcohol was amplifying it. When his eyes finally found them they seemed to have already gotten into a fight. He couldn't tell what about but Granger raised her voice, shouting something at Ron he couldn't make out over the music. They continued arguing, rushing out the main entrance the new Granger only just made her new dazzling debut through. Her eyes were watering, and her updo laid even lower down her neck, threatening to undo itself.

Draco stepped forward; instinctively going to follow her but was pulled back into Pansy. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her whole body into him.

"Where are you going Draco? We haven't had any fun yet."

Draco turned around and let her deepen her embrace. "I think you've already had enough fun. You look like a mess."

She frowned. "What's going on with you? I thought you would have fun tonight. Maybe if you would stop focusing on those three freaks you'd be able to enjoy yourself for once."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Maybe if you weren't so drunk we could have a real conversation about this."

"Or are you just focused on her."

Draco stood stunned, not sure how to reply to her accusation. If she would have said that to him any other time before then he would have been able to brush it off, but today, he truly was at a loss of words. He had no explanation for it, but he was indeed hyper focused on a certain Gryffindor princess.

"I thought so." She stormed off, leaving Draco to collect his thoughts.


	8. Chapter Eight

8.

"Startle you there, boy?"

And he had been.

Draco was grateful his back had been turned; otherwise the expression on his face would have given him away. Though every bone in his body told him not to Draco held his breath, and turned to face him.

His father leaned over the counter, resting his palms on the pale granite. "I don't remember you ever being that crazy about fruit." His tone had sounded casual though everything told Draco it was not. His long silver hair, which typically laid flat on his head, was tied back into a messy tail. Draco knew something was off from the sight of it. His father was precise about everything, from the way his shirt collars folded over his outer vest, down to the exact centimeter of his trouser length. Nothing was ever out of order, and if anything ever was someone would have to pay dearly for it.

"I never knew you payed much attention to my preferences in fruit." Draco shot back. He almost regretted the tone he used, but refused to continue being the cowering son. Hermione would not have backed down and neither would he. Whether he liked it or not he would have to confront his father, in place of his mother who never could.

Lucius rolled his eyes and changed the subject, finally getting to what Draco assumed he's been meaning to ask for a lot longer than he's been letting on.

"Anyway, you don't happen to know where they girl could have gone?"

Draco played dumb, firmly holding his eye contact. "Which one?"

"You couldn't have already forgotten about her. That Granger girl you went to school with."

"Oh. No, one of them hit me in the back and—"

"Then she escaped. I heard." Lucius pursed his lips, his eyes wandering around the room.

That hadn't been the answer he wanted to hear.

"Just making sure. Bella had her doubts but you know how she is. She was adamant you decided to join the other side, but I quickly put an end to that rubbish. No one would believe a word that came out of her babbling mouth anyway."

Draco laughed dryly.

He couldn't wrap his mind around how despite everything his father has put his family through; he still tried to protect his son when he could. When couldn't protect his family from himself. He still cared for them, in his own warped way.

"There were reports of the other two running around without the girl in tow. Apparently, they still believe we have her. Kind of odd, how her friends had just broken her out only to lose her again? It's like she vanished out of thin air that day.

I told Bella it was more likely you wanted to keep her around as a pet, if you were anything like your old man. I certainly hope my son isn't committing treason. I'd hope you already knew the price of that."

The comment caught Draco off guard. Had they already known? Draco considered his next few words carefully, afraid to say something that would tell too much. They had known, or at least had some inkling about what really happened to her. A shiver went down his spine. If so, why hadn't they sent anyone to search their assets yet? If it was so painfully obvious he had been keeping her _like a pet_.

Was that what he had been doing with her? By not letting her leave when she so clearly wanted to?

He tried to shake off the thought but could not. Letting her leave would be as good as striking her dead himself. He knew that, but the more he tried to convince himself of it the more it felt like a half truth. That day when he saved her he did it for more than just out of the goodness of his heart. He never once thought he would receive something from her in turn, let alone be shown any gratitude, but it hadn't just come from pure intentions. Draco wanted to keep Hermione around, selfishly maybe, but his actions were not at all comparable to his father's. His father would do much worse to Hermione than let her read textbooks all day, or take naps in the study.

_A pet._

Maybe that was what his mother was to Lucius.

He didn't want to know.

"Anyway, since you're here maybe you should join us downstairs? The Lord is in our company tonight and he would like all of us to be around for the entertainment. Especially the Malfoys."

Draco's face paled. He knew this part was coming, but couldn't have ever prepared himself for it.

More than anything he wanted to turn around and run back to the summer home, to continue his days lounging around the manor with the Gryffindor girl. But he made a promise to keep her safe the moment he decided to save her from this fate. So when his father turned down the hallway, leading him down to the basement, he followed.

The smell was the first thing that hit him. The smell of sweat and metal heavily intertwining with each other, like a thick cologne wrapping around the room. It came from the small piles of bodies in the center of the room, as well as from the Death Eaters surrounding them. Whatever happened here had been drawn out, till the night's captures had been emptied of every last drop of blood that could be extracted. Looking at the corpses, it certainly looked as if they had sweat out blood from their pores. Luckily he hadn't recognized any of the faces, or it would have been far too easy to imagine Hermione tangled in the pile.

The room was dark, lit only by dim candle lights spread out across the room. The more Draco focused on it, the more it looked like the candle's flickering light had animated the horror back into their lifeless faces.

"There he is my Lord, the traitor." Bella hissed. Her voice, and hers alone, echoed through the room.

Lucius raised his wand. "I will sooner have you leave my house than accuse my son of treason."

The air was thick with tension. No one else dared speak up on behalf of either side. Though, it was clear who they were more inclined to believe. They had all the evidence they needed to piece together the truth, but said nothing out of respect for his father. Draco wondered how far that respect would stretch.

Voldemort raised his hand, stopping the two in their tracks. "Bella, restrain yourself. Tonight is special night for us." Both his father and his aunt bowed. After exchanging distrustful glares at each other they settled into their spots around the Dark Lord.

"Tonight, we have someone in our company who we've been dying to get a hold of for a very long time."

"Draco, my boy. Your father has been a very good ally of mine for all this time. If we get a hold of the Granger girl no harm will come to her. I will personally gift her to you. So no more of this talk. Bring out our guest."

Relief shot through him. He didn't know what they were playing at but for now they were safe.


	9. Chapter Nine

9.

He considered what the Dark Lord has to say. Actually, and truly, considered it. If he had been serious, and hadn't just been trying to lead them into a trap, it would have solved all their problems. Hermione would be safe and Draco wouldn't have to worry about sneaking around anymore. She wouldn't have to worry again about her pain returning, as she would be provided with everything she needed, and then some. All the secrets he's been forced to keep lately have been weighing down on him. He couldn't keep up with all the lies, and knew that eventually he would dig himself into a hole he couldn't get out of.

He hoped that when the time came, if he was given the chance to make the decision that would be best for her, he would make the right one.

* * *

Anxious for what was to come Hermione stayed up well into the later hours of the night. The house had been silent except for the sound of the wooden walls creaking as it settled. Her eye lids were heavy but she persisted, either expecting him to apparate back at any moment, or considering the grim possibility that she may have to leave without him if the Death Eaters came for her before he made it back. She hoped it wouldn't come to that, but if it did she would have no choice but to leave Draco behind to whatever fate they had in store for him. Though, part of her knew she wouldn't do that. If anything were to happen to him her death would follow soon after his own. She owed him that at the very least.

With each passing minute her worries intensified. What was happening to him there? She knew it couldn't have been one of her more gruesome possibilities if he was gone this long. No, if they planning on coming for her they would have done it immediately. If anything, she prayed it meant he was still alive. But for how much longer? The question plagued her.

She could still perfectly recall the feeling of warmth from his body as it cradled above hers. She felt silly for thinking of such a thing at a time like this, when she should be doing anything but distracting herself with silly pining thoughts. Yet she couldn't stop the invasive thought from expanding. She was reminded of every sensation and the dizziness that overwhelmed her. As much as she didn't want to admit it Hermione wanted to feel more of it. But most of all she wanted to run her hands against the lean muscles of his back. It wasn't right how much she yearned for and welcomed the thought.

Tears stung her eyes, as they threatened to fall freely. She quickly wiped them away onto the back of her sleeve. She had thrown the green and charcoal stripped shirt on that morning, not thinking much about it besides the warmth it would give her during a night of traveling. Now, upon closer inspection she noticed _D. MALFOY_ had been embroider on the sleeve. While she had been drowning in fabric the shirt had been clearly too small for Draco. An old shirt maybe?

The other week, when Draco had brought home the pile of clothes along with other supplies she had assumed the clothes had been for him. She used them anyway hoping it would gain some kind of reaction out of him, in some kind of unspoken attempt to prove him still the vial creature she believed him to be. She supposed it was better she had been proven wrong. Draco Malfoy had actually been a decent human being, when he put in the effort to do so. Yet why had she still felt so betrayed? After how awful Draco had been in school and his unfortunate family ties, it made sense. She had wanted to still believe him to be a villain. Just as everyone else had for as long as she remembered.

When the tears dissipated all that was left was the feeling of hollowness. What had she now now that she had lost everything? Her friends, her mobility, and her sworn enemy. She wished everything could return back to how they use to be.

A loud thud echoed through the walls, and was immediately followed by the sound of silverware clacking against tile. She jumped up to her feet, and listened. A chair tumbled, and someone was being choked. No, she thought, rushing out the door. Someone was vomiting.

She stopped dead at the doorway, finding Draco's form crouched over the sink.

"Are you alright?"

He looked up and nodded before turning his attention back to the sink and emptying the last of his stomach content.

Relieved, she let out a deep exhale and hurried over to his side. When it looked like he finished she spoke up again. "What happened?"

Draco shook his head. Not wanting to relive that night's anguish.

Hermione understood and did not press any further. She asked one final question, and then dropped the subject. "Are we safe here for another night at least?"

He nodded his head again, dropping to his knees.

"Here," she said, offered him a hand. When he took it she helped him up and led him to his bedroom.

Hermione had been here once before, when she had been searching the house her first day alone. Though, many things have been moved around and brought into the room she recognized it all the same. A lone mattress was tucked into the furthest corner of the room, with no sheets covering it aside an oversize quilt. The rest of his belongings had been dangling out of his old Quittage broom bag near an open bathroom. Hermione noted it; this entire time she's been sink-bathing herself where she could and using her wand for everywhere else.

Draco settled himself onto the mattress, covering his eyes with his forearm. Physically he seemed to be fine, if not a bit sweaty. Hermione laid down next to him, hoping to comfort him with her presence. His body seized up for a moment, and then he exhaled and relaxed. It was a long moment before he finally said something.

"I'm glad you decided to stay here on your own instead of having to beg you stay a little longer." His voice was sing-song, but Hermione could hear the pain laced within it. Hermione remembered the dark visions that kept her away at night when she was off wandering the woods with Harry. The cold nights did nothing to help it. She hadn't said anything about them to Harry, not wanting to add more stress to the already tough situation. She could only imagine the dreams that keep Draco awake at night. He's seen far worse than she could imagine.

"I'll stay as long as you need." And she meant it.

Draco turned to look at her. "Then stay here all night. Stay here for the rest of my nights."

Hermione stiffened. She didn't think he meant to make it sound so romantic, but after the kiss they shared, it was hard to imagine it wasn't.

"Alright." She mumbled back.

He turned over fully onto his side, facing her. "Promise me?"

"I promise."

Satisfied, he closed his eyes.

Hermione followed the action, and shortly fell asleep.

* * *

Hermione woke up much later into the night with Draco's arms wrapped around her waist. His rough hands were stroking circles around a section of her exposed navel skin. She murmured, perhaps too eager to feel his embrace once more. She rolled onto her back, allowing his arms to wander further across her body. As she hadn't been wearing a bra his hands easily found it's way to her bare chest. Being held by him was intoxicating, and yet again she failed to his charms.

He pulled at her tender tips mischievously, teasing her resolve. She glanced up at him, her eyes meeting an intense stare. Draco held her gaze, then refocused his eyes on the strip of bare flesh flashed across her abdomen.

They both wanted more.

Thinking of nothing but her need to reciprocate, Hermione shot her arms up from her sides and slide them under his shirt. His firm stomach muscles curved softly into each other. She felt each curve with her fingertips, swirling them around and then under to his shoulder blades. He felt just as solid as she anticipated. It comforted her in ways she didn't understand.

She wrapped her arms around him and held him close against her chest. With his arms still exploring her body she closed her eyes again and drifted into a deep sleep.


End file.
